If you have ever been infertile, Mother’s Day Can Freakin’ Suck. This is a picture of my mom. She had Stage IV endometriosis (like me), and as a result, only had me. She wanted more babies but she couldn’t have them and she and my father were TTC before IVF or infertility treatment was an option. She died a little over a year ago and for some reason this Mother’s Day has ripped-off what my grief counselor calls the “grief-band-aid” on so many different issues. I miss my mom today in a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking way that maybe I haven’t since she died. Maybe that is because she suffered from infertility too and we had a special bond on Mother’s Day, understanding each other’s pain even though we both became mothers. But today, there is a pain and anger in me that I haven’t felt in years. If I see one more picture of a pregnant belly in my news feed I will scream. Or read one more comment about the diaper’s women wear after giving birth. Please stop reminding me of what I couldn’t do! My grief counselor tells me that losing both my parents (as an only child) within 5 months is called “complicated grief” but she also said that loss of anyone brings up every other loss I have ever experienced, namely all my many, many miscarriages. That would make it very complicated grief, I guess. I might have reached a point where I was okay not trying to carry a baby in my belly — losing a baby at 5 months when I was in such fear and denial that I couldn’t even acknowledge I was pregnant — helped me move past the ever-present yearning to feel a baby kick inside me. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still hurt as a woman that I couldn’t carry a baby. I have two beautiful children and should be able to celebrate today. But I can’t. I don’t have the one person who understood better than any other how conflicting Mother’s Day can be, in which to share the day, happiness and sadness tied together in a giant ball of conflicting emotions. My family seems to have forgotten that I needed support today — that I will always need support on Mother’s Day. I don’t blame my kids for not getting me a card or doing something special for me. They are too young to understand how complicated this day is for a formerly infertile mom (who just lost her mom), and God-willing they will never understand the infertility piece. My DH asked what was bothering me and I explained my headspace and then I told him I shouldn’t have to ask for cards or flowers or CHOCOLATE. Just because our kids are teens doesn’t mean the pain of infertility is any less. Apparently today, it is quite more, and this is one of the hardest Mother’s Days I have experienced. I cannot control the internet, all the pictures of newborn babies (Archie’s feet, Amy and Gene), and pregnant bellies. I can only control my response. Which will be to stay off my phone, tablet and away from my computer. My infertility grief-band-aid was ripped off today and it freakin’ sucks. It doesn’t matter how your infertility resolves. There always is a little piece of it in your heart. My mom not being here today makes it harder to push the feelings aside, but no matter how much counseling we get, no matter how many babies we do or don’t ever have, Mother’s Day can be brutal. Now where the Eff is the Chocolate in this house?